


never be lonely

by straykid



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chensung Being Soft, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straykid/pseuds/straykid
Summary: “They gave me green hair, Jisung.” Chenle sends him an incredulous look. “I looked like a cabbage. I had to walk around looking like a cabbage for months.”Or: the one where Chenle and Jisung talk about their lives as idols, and all it entails.





	never be lonely

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was written in celebration of chenle finally dying his hair back to brown, and is almost 2k of chensung being the softest beans. i hope you all enjoy <3

When there’s a knock on the door of the dorm, it usually means one of three things:

  1. Mark got drunk and came to the wrong door again.
  2. Someone (most likely Jaemin) has forgotten their keys.
  3. One of the hyungs want to raid their cupboards for ramen.



This time, Jisung is placing his money on the second.

It’s a Friday night, and he’s home alone for the first time in months. Mark and Haechan are in America doing promotions for NCT127, Jeno and Jaemin are out bowling with some of the rookies, and Renjun and their manager decided to go see some new sci-fi movie in the theaters.

Having the dorm entirely to himself gives him the chance to breathe. As much as Jisung loves his members, he’s most definitely the introvert of their group, and the constant social interaction is just… exhausting, honestly. He welcomes the solitude, and has spent the past few hours sprawled out on the living room floor with a random show playing on TV.

Though he’s disappointed that his alone time has already come to an end, he’s not willing to risk getting hit for ignoring the knocking of whatever hyung happens to be home. With a small sigh, he pushes himself upright, gets to his feet and makes his way over.

He’s not expecting to open the door and find Chenle, with a pillow tucked under one arm, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and a sheepish smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Jisung asks, opening the door wider. Chenle steps inside, toeing his shoes off carefully.

It’s rare for Chenle to sleep at the dorm instead of the apartment he shares with his mom, but Jisung welcomes his presence. There’s something comforting about having a same-aged friend around, and he’s missed it since Chenle moved out over a year ago.

“Mom had to go back to China, so I’m staying here for awhile.”

Jisung frowns. Even when Chenle’s mom can’t stay with him, there’s usually another member of his family lined up to behis chaperone. “Is everything okay?”

Chenle offers a half-hearted shrug. “She didn’t say much, but I think it’s something with my dad. They’re probably fighting.”

“Oh.” Jisung can’t help but wince. He’s never met Chenle’s father in person, but he’s accidentally overheard Chenle’s phone calls with him more than once, and he doesn’t seem like the type of man you want to piss off. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.” Chenle shifts on his feet, and then nods in the direction of the bedrooms. “Are the hyungs here?”

“They’re all out,” Jisung says. “I’ll help you make your bed though. The top bunk in my room is still empty.”

“Shouldn’t the maknae take the top bunk?” Chenle asks, smirking.

“You’re more of a maknae than I ever will be,” Jisung says, and it’s true. From his cherub appearance to his bright and innocent personality, Chenle is everything the youngest member should be. Meanwhile, Jisung is all lanky limbs and endless growth spurts, with the maknae-on-top mentality.

“Are you kidding me? You’re overflowing with aegyo.” Chenle reaches up, gently pinching Jisung’s cheek. Rolling his eyes, Jisung swats the hand away.

“Shut up,” he says, starting down the hall.

“I can’t believe Park Jisung, the star of Dancing High, just told me to shut up,” Chenle says, in a mocking awestruck tone. Jisung holds his middle finger up in the air without turning around.

 

—

 

It doesn’t take long for them to get Chenle’s old bunk set up again. They dig out a set of sheets from the closet along with some spare blankets, and Chenle snags a few of the plushies off Jaemin’s bed just for fun.

Once they’re finished, they both sit on Jisung’s bed. Usually, having someone else on his bed would annoy Jisung to no end, but he finds that Chenle is an exception to that rule. (If he thinks about it, Chenle is an exception to a lot of his rules, but he’ll never admit that out loud).

Jisung lays back comfortably, while Chenle hugs the only plushie on the bed—a panda that had been gifted to him by a fan at their last signing—close to his chest. He’s happy to enjoy the silence that settles between them, but can’t help noticing how Chenle’s face seems to unconsciously fall into a frown.

“You okay?” He asks, using his foot to nudge the outside of his thigh.

“I’m fine.”

“Then why do you seem so distracted?”

“I’m just thinking.” Chenle sighs, turning to properly face Jisung. “Do you ever think about what your life would be like if you hadn’t joined SM?”

Which—okay. That escalated a lot quicker than Jisung anticipated, but he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. Chenle’s not the type of person to do anything in halves. Cautiously, he nods. “I’ve thought about it before.”

“Me too.” Chenle drums his fingers gently against the stomach of the stuffed bear. “Sometimes I wonder if it might have been better.”

Jisung finally turns his gaze from the TV, the corners of his lips dipping down into a frown. It’s not Chenle’s words that make him feel uneasy (he’s pretty sure every idol has felt like pulling the plug on entertainment at one point or another) but his tone of voice.

Chenle is many things—loud, bright, optimistic, talented, intelligent, a happy virus, _loud_ —but he’s never seemed defeated until now.

“You’re not happy with how things are?” Jisung asks, trying to maintain a neutral expression. He doesn’t want to come off too strong, but he also can’t help his instinctual panic.

“I’m happy,” Chenle says, and it almost seems as though he’s trying to convince himself. “I just miss how things used to be, I guess.”

“You mean before we debuted?”

“Before I signed my contract with SM.”

“When you were still living back in Shanghai,” Jisung acknowledges. He studies Chenle’s face for a moment, and doesn’t miss how his eyes grow wet from just the mention of his hometown.

“I like it here. Korea is a really great place,” Chenle says, blinking hard.

“But it’s not home,” Jisung says knowingly.

“It’s not home,” Chenle agrees. Then he goes quiet again, and Jisung kind of wishes the ground would just swallow him whole.

Here’s the thing: Jisung is an awkward person. He accepted it a long time ago. He’s shy, rather rough around the edges, and sometimes a little too blunt; all of which combine to form a social disaster waiting to happen. Which means he’s probably the least qualified person to be having a deep conversation like this.

“Have you spoken to Jaehyun-hyung recently?” He asks. Translated: _Would you please spare us both a lot of pain and talk to him instead?_

“He’s busy doing promotions with all of the other hyungs.” Chenle hums a few bars of Regular. It’s not his usual burst-out-into-song-musical-style way, but Jisung takes it as a good sign anyways.

Jisung exhales. He can do this. He can play the role of dependable friend, and be a (metaphorical) shoulder to (metaphorically) cry on. Easy.

“So you’re homesick,” he says.

“Maybe a little,” Chenle admits.

“It would be weird if you weren’t. You don’t have to be ashamed or anything.”

“I’m not ashamed, I’m just…” Chenle trails off, a small crease forming between his brows the way it does when he wants to express something but doesn’t know how. Even after two years, there’s still a pretty big language barrier.

“I know what you mean,” Jisung assures. He takes pride in his ability to fill in the blanks when it comes to Chenle.

“I love singing,” Chenle says. “I love our fans. I love you guys too. But it can get a little too intense at times. I love it, but sometimes… sometimes I hate it too.”

“It’s okay to hate your job sometimes. I think everyone does,” Jisung says. “My parents complain about work every time I talk to them.”

“It just feels selfish for me to talk like this when there are so many trainees our age that would give anything to be debuted in a group. I wanted this, and yet I’m complaining about it.”

“Do you still want it?”

Chenle pauses, and Jisung’s heart plummets to his stomach. Just the thought of facing the cold reality of the entertainment industry without his best friend (and only real friend, if he’s being honest) makes him feel sick.

For a few tense moments, there’s only silence between them. Then, finally, Chenle says, “I still want it.”

“Good,” Jisung gives a curt nod. “That’s—good.”

“I guess it’s just a lot harder than I thought it would be. I don’t mind the late night practices, or recording, or photoshoots, but I miss having choices.”

“Our lives are pretty structured.”

“They gave me green hair, Jisung.” Chenle sends him an incredulous look. “I looked like a cabbage. I had to walk around looking like a cabbage for _months,_ because I don’t even have control over my own body _._ ”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Jisung tries.

“It was bad.”

Jisung can’t suppress a smile any longer. “Okay, it was pretty bad, but it still could have been worse.”

“Yeah, if I were bald, maybe.” Chenle snorts, drawing his knees up toward his chest. “Sometimes it just feels like the novelty of it all is wearing off.”

And _that_ Jisung can relate to. “I know what you mean,” he says. “You don’t see all the hard parts that come with being an idol until you’re actually one.”

“Exactly.” Chenle exhales, but it comes out more like a sigh. “Back when I first signed my contract, they told me I’d still be able to go home a lot. But now, I haven’t seen most of my family in eight months. The last time I went home, I only had two days, and I spent half of that in the airport.”

“It’s bullshit,” Jisung says, the curse slipping easily. He only realizes what he’s said when Chenle barks out a familiar laugh.

“Complete bullshit,” Chenle agrees. “I wouldn’t put up with it if I didn’t love you all so much.”

“You can’t leave me alone with the others,” Jisung says, simultaneously playful and serious. “It’s hard enough around here since you moved out, I think I’d lose my mind doing interviews and music shows without you too.”

Chenle reaches over, taking one of Jisung’s hands into his own. He gives it a gentle squeeze, before carefully interlocking their fingers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

It’s a well-known fact that Jisung hates skinship, and if it were anyone else, he would have ripped his hand away immediately. Yet he finds himself squeezing Chenle’s hand in return, a tender smile on his face.

“Although,” he says, “our average head size would probably go down a few centimeters.”

Chenle uses his free hand to chuck the stuffed panda in his lap at Jisung, laughing all the while. (The sound makes Jisung’s heart skip a beat, but that’s a story for another time.)

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is always appreciated :)


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